


It's Enough To Make A Young Man-

by idkanyhallways



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Love Letter to Siena's Rooftops, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Drinking, Getting Together, Humor, M/M, Remus talks to flowers but sadly they do not talk back
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:47:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25617592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idkanyhallways/pseuds/idkanyhallways
Summary: Remus despairs over flowers.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	It's Enough To Make A Young Man-

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time writing a fic and actually finishing it. To quote Catherine Zeta Jones, I am in such a state of shock, I completely blacked out, can't remember a thing I've written. Enjoy!

Remus sits on, well, now that he thinks about it, quite an uncomfortable deck chair. The summer breeze, if you can even call it that, appears every few minutes, as if it's mocking him. _Ha, you lulled yourself into thinking that breathing is actually bearable? You absolute moron. I'll give you a little snippet of what Real Fresh Air feels like, and then promptly disappear, leaving you gagging for more. Idiot._

It really is unbearable, breathing. The air is bordering on becoming liquid, and boy, it is just so well paired with the current temperature of 37°C. Plus the temperature of Remus' mental state, which is somewhere around One Million Degrees of Celsius, maybe even two, because Remus has entered his personal hell.

So. Remus sits on a deck chair. The chair, along with a table so tiny and so, so unstable that wobbles if you just look at it the wrong way, a laundry rack, and five small pots of very vibrant flowers, have all been crammed into the balcony. There are even more blooming flowers hanging from the railing and Remus can't help but smile, they are just so gorgeous. Then, in true Remus' fashion, he immediately starts to worry because _fuck_ , somebody has to water these, right, and how much water do they even need, and how often and oh god. These flowers will die.

He pushes forward, his feet on the ground, elbows on knees, head in his palms. A tiny red flower is staring directly at him. It hangs sort of accusingly. It must know that it will soon die due to Remus' utter incompetence. God. If only he knew what sort it was, then he could easily google how to care for it. There must be some sort of app that recognizes types of flowers, this _can't_ be the end.

“Dude, you okay?”

Remus sighs. The red flower in front of him sways. He should give it a name, they have really bonded it the past couple of minutes.

A cold glass of water presses into his shoulder. “I think you need it.” Lily sets the glass on the table and leans against the door frame, and she has- oh- a _fan_ in her right hand. Maybe if he looks miserable enough she'll give it to him.

“Huh, no chance in hell. Those baby deer eyes won't work on me,” Lily smirks, and fans herself a little harder as an emphasis. “I brought you water, you ungrateful little fuck.”

Defeated, Remus takes the glass and drains it in one gulp. “Oh, thank you so much, Lily dearest, the light of my life,- ”

“Keep it going, I think I deserve a bit more for literally saving your life just now. ”

“- the fire of my loins, the only reason why I'm still alive and kicking,” here he puts the empty glass back on the table, which wobbles ominously, “I know that I would've turned into nothing but a parched shell of a man have you not just given me this glorious glass of sweet, fresh water.” He goes to clasp both of her hands as if to kiss them, but she moves the hand with fan just out of his reach, that sly little fox...

“You are welcome. Of course you'll be indebted to me for the rest of your sorry life, but nothing more than that, don't worry.”

Remus stares at her a bit more. Should he throw in a pout? Maybe that's a bit of an overkill. Any second now.

“Ugh, fiiiiine,” she finally cracks and gives him the fan. “Your eyes should be banned.”

He throws her a wink, and promptly starts flapping the fan as if his life depends on it. Life all of the sudden doesn't look so bleak. The red flower, who definitely looks like it's name is Giovanni, sways with the breeze.

“I will literally never get over this view,” Lily sighs. Remus wholeheartedly agrees. Two weeks ago, he traveled to Siena to visit Lily, and just the thought of ever having to leave this place makes him want to combust into flames. His flight back is in five days. He's handling it. It's _fine_.

Lily, however, has no such problems. Last autumn, she came to Siena through the student exchange program. It was love at the first sight, this city and her. She kept on sending Remus photos of the sunsets and herself drinking way too many aperol spritzes and _look Remus, the colors, they match_ and well, Remus was only human, he fell in love with Siena as well. Then, as the summer was getting closer, she was like, _you know, Remus, I think I'll stay here during the summer as well_ , and he was like, _nooo, how dare you, come back, Tuscany isn't that amazing_ , and she was like, _I'll pretend that I didn't hear that for the sake of our friendship_ , and he was like, _haha yeah but there will be no friendship when I literally kill you if you send me another photo of that sunset, like I'm already frothing with jealousy_ , and she was like, _weeell I was planning to invite you to come over for few weeks, but since you don't find Tuscany all that charming-_ , and he was like, _I'm booking my flight as we speak_. And so he came.

Lily shares her flat with two other students, who were all so kind to let him crash on the couch in the living room. The flat is on the top floor and it has a roof window, (or _finestra, c'mon Remus, would it really kill you to use that Duolingo app from time to time_ , as Lily so kindly reminded him), and that _finestra_ opens up, and really, they would've been utter fools had they not spent at least one (or almost every) evening up on the roof. And the view up there is just. Breathtaking doesn't even begin do cover it. Wherever he turns, a sea of rust-orange tiles that makes him wish he were a tile himself.

But, they are down on the balcony right now, and the view is quite different here, though no less gorgeous. Across them lives the most fascinating old man and equally as fascinating parrot and boy, these two argue _tirelessly_. At the moment, both the fascinating duo is out on the balcony, him sitting on the chair and smoking a cigarette, the bird on the table, jumping around her cage and happily screaming _duecento trentanove_. The old guy looks ready to erupt. Aaaand-

“Sta' zitto Carlotta, sta' zitto!” There it is. Remus will really miss the view.

“Now out with it. Why are you hiding on the balcony?”, Lily nudges him lightly on the shoulder.

“I'm just enjoying the view.”

“Mhm, although the view really is,” as if on cue, the parrot starts yelling back _sta' zitto_ as well, “something else... I don't believe you. Why did you look like you were on brink of tears when I came here?”

Ah. “Well. Do you see all these flowers surrounding us? Do they look, I don't know, thirsty to you? I have been here for two weeks and I gave them no water, nothing! Didn't see you trying to help them out either, the both of us going on with our merry lives as if nothing's wrong.” Giovanni jangles aggressively, as if to prove Remus' point.

“I see,” she hums. “Oh! And just now, when I brought you water, you didn't even think of them, did you! You just drained the glass, right in front of them!”

A gasp. _I did just that, didn't I_? Remus looks pleadingly at Giovanni, but Giovanni is done with his empty excuses, he just seems to hang a little lower, the poor guy. “I'm a monster,” Remus whispers to him, and drops the fan to the floor so he could push his face into his hands, ready to start fake-crying, “I'm a MONSTER!”

“Yes, you are!” Lily happily crows as she snatches the fan off the ground.

“You should be comforting me, you know.”

“Keep crying,” she thwacks him with the fan. “Anyways, I'll leave so you can mope in peace. But only for ten minutes! Collect your thoughts, I'll come back with water for your flower pals, and then you better start talking about what's bothering you or you start acting like a Real Adult and come back inside.” Remus can even hear the capital letters.

He throws in another exaggerated sob for a good measure, then finally lifts his head to look at Lily. She's looking back expectantly. “Fine.”

“That's what I thought,” Lily says with a small smile and then thwacks him once more because actually, _she's_ the monster in this story. “Also, you'd know this if you were able to wake up early enough, but I, Lily Evans, this girl right here,” here she points at, you guessed it, herself, “me, myself and I, water these bad boys every morning.” And with those parting words, she grabs the empty glass and pads away, sliding the glass door shut.

Right. So about that personal hell. Lily and her roommates are holding a little party in the flat. That, of course, is an understatement. It's barely 8 PM and the flat is already packed full. Who even comes before, like, 10 PM? Who are these people? How do they live their lives, being so punctual?

Remus, being the bright little extrovert that he most definitely is, is most definitely not hiding on the balcony right now. He's just admiring the view. _Do not sta' zitto Carlotta, you are my only entertainment._

Okay so maybe he came out of the bathroom, saw a room full of people he doesn't know, and he just. Bolted. But what was he supposed to do?? Lily was nowhere in the sight, and he sure as hell wasn't going to enter that living room and do something terrible like, I don't know, introduce himself. He just silently slipped to Lily's room and out to the balcony, like any sane person would. Right.

He knows that he's acting like and idiot, but sometimes he really can't help himself. He feels it in his throat, this lump that won't let him speak. And he wants to, so badly. He wants to laugh, to make other people laugh, he wants to be funny and interesting and to feel alive and he wants to explode from all the wanting. But there's always something keeping him down. A tremor in his hands. An aggressive blush over his cheeks. His voice is too quiet, it surely cannot be loud enough to get the attention of others. And his words, maybe they are not as funny, not as quick as he thought.

He hears the glass doors clicking open, and a moment later, a glass clinking on the table. Remus swoops it up, his veins singing _Giovanni, the suffering ends now_ , stands up and carefully waters the whole pot.

“What the fuck-” the voice comes behind him and oh no, that's not Lily.

Remus turns and there's a, there's a _guy_ , first of all. A tall guy, and he has. Long hair, and it's black and it's long and, he's just, he's watching Remus with a tiny smirk on his lips, looking as if he's not sure whether to laugh or laugh even harder. “By the way, that was wine,“ the guy adds, the now completely useless warning making Remus, frazzled enough already, enter the state of abject horror. _Giovanni, I'm so sorry._

“Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” the stranger smiles, genuinely smiles, his eyes locking Remus in place.

And listen, Remus can talk all he wants how he hates getting tongue-tied, how he can't stand it when he can feel fire slowly growing from his throat and the redness spreading across his face, how he just _loathes_ when it feels like somebody swept the rug under his feet whenever a cute guy so much as looks at him. He knows that in a matter of seconds, he will say something so idiotic that it will surely haunt him for the eternity and beyond, he knows that probably the entire street can hear his stupid heart beating like it's an angsty teenager whose parents have just bought them a drum kit, he knows he knows he knows that he's a mess, but. But. At moments like this, it feels like he, Remus John Lupin, was born to fall in love. He smiles back.

**Author's Note:**

> finestra - window, duecento trentanove - two hundred thirty nine, sta' zitto - shut up
> 
> I have never actually been to Siena, but I do follow a girl on Instagram that currently lives there through Erasmus exchange and I honestly get worked up by just thinking about her posts. My only goal from now on is to get to Siena, climb on those rooftops with an aperol spritz in one hand, plate of carbonara in the other, and take a photo of that fucking sunset.


End file.
